


di'Taykan really will try anything once

by keerawa



Category: Valor Series - Tanya Huff
Genre: Alien Sex, Bloodplay, Bondage, Claiming Bites, Enthusiastic Consent, F/F, F/M, Misses Clause Challenge, Multi, No Canon Knowledge Required, Orgy, Other, POV First Person, PWP, PWP Worldbuilding, Worldbuilding, Xeno, Xenophilia, Yuleporn, Yuletide, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 08:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keerawa/pseuds/keerawa
Summary: Alamber joined the Marines, but his cousin Avaani is the one having all the adventures.





	1. The blob that fukked me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skitz_phenom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skitz_phenom/gifts).



> No canon knowledge is required to enjoy this xeno treat! Warnings for explicit xeno, for being pinned and helpless during sex, and if you have any issue with spiders do NOT read chapter three.

_Audio message begins._

 

Hey, _tak’yo_ , how’s it hanging? Made any progress with that human of yours yet?

Probably not. So sad. All that Confed military porn we watched as younglings, going to waste. Our _sheshan_ will disown you, Alamber, if you let him get away without even a sniff!

But enough about your tragic lack of sexcapades. I’ve got something _big_ to report. Remember that station classified I told you about, “Seeking humanoid willing to engage in a simulation of sexual reproduction for entertainment purposes”? I responded, and the whole thing was _even weirder_ than I’d hoped!

I sent a query and was told to show up at one of the high-end station guest quarters at twenty-four hundred. The species designation I’d asked for came out as [untranslatable].

I showed up on the dot, wearing my pheromone masker, a wisp of a grey silk dress that sets off my eyes, and some strappy shoes. Even if my partner was too different to notice how hot I looked in my outfit, I always like to put in an effort on a first date. The door shushed open—the room was dimly lit. A rich, salty metallic odor, like standing on the shore of some alien sea, wafted out as I stepped inside. My hair stood up to better catch that odd tantalizing scent. My partner was a big ochre blob quivering in the corner, maybe six times my mass.

Itz communicated through some kind of vibration/light combo, and my translation program was reeeeeally struggling. Still, we made it work. I tried licking itz first, to make sure neither of us was allergic to the other. I know, I know, I should have asked medical, but that takes a full station cycle, they charge for it, and some of the staff get all judgemental about interspecies compatibility checks. Life’s too short to put up with other species’ hang-ups! Unless I’m helping them break ’em. That’s always good for an intense fukk.

Speaking of which—my blob. Itz had found some di’Taykan anatomical diagrams on the net. We went through them together, making sure itz understood the purposes of each orifice and mapped the places on my body where stimulation would be most pleasurable. Which was both practical, and very sweet. I’m pretty sure most of my partners haven’t bothered to do as much for their own species, never mind mine! Still, I try not to hold a few stinkers against a whole species. Even if they’re literal stinkers. Remember the Krai we shared in that zero-gee bubble? What the chafing fukk had he been eating?

Aaaaanyway. Itz had this big squishy plastic bowl for a bed in its quarters. I took off my masker, and itz responded to my pheromones with a nice orange glow, scent a bit muskier now, with notes of copper. Seemed promising! So I stripped and lay down. Itz flowed slowly over my feet, warm and thick, like some perverse sentient mud bath. Then itz slithered up my legs, my thighs, my groin, and, I won’t lie, I was starting to panic a little bit. Itz was so heavy I couldn’t move my legs, couldn’t get away if I wanted to. I like being held down, but this was… itz slopped over my groin, and, oh! I felt the shock of a pulsing hum, right where I was most sensitive, too much for a moment before it settled to a shivery throb.

Itz oozed up my torso, faster now, eager, colors reflecting off the ceiling. It was hard to breathe with all that weight on my ribs, like stepping off a shuttle on a double grav world. It covered my throat, and I could feel my pulse hammering away. I closed my eyes as it poured up over my face and hair, heavy and hot, a tang of salt-copper-musk. Itz left an opening over my nose and mouth, for me to breathe and speak. _Like a fancy, expensive spa day with a happy ending,_ I tried telling myself as it began to seep _inside_ me. There was a strange, moist heat and pressure in my pussy, my ass, my _ears_ , unrelenting, mounting stimulation. As itz pushed into me with more force, I considered calling the whole thing off.

But then itz started to vibrate, different frequencies and intensities all over and inside my body, speeding up and slowing down, changing and building rhythms. I was gasping, begging, belly tight, tighter, hotter, jerking against the weight holding me down, so full, the vibrations winding me up and up, until I came with a trilling sob.

There was a moment of stillness, a tangy scent curling through the air, as itz considered my condition. I panted for breath. Was it over? Did I want it to be over?

Then itz trilled back at me, not a sound but a physical sensation; the vibrations began in my ears this time, rather than on my clit, before spreading out and echoing through the rest of my body. Itz sang to me, through me, harmonizing, playing my body like an instrument in an orchestra, my own cries somehow a part of it all.

I was completely helpless, couldn’t do a thing but lie there and succumb to the overwhelming pleasure, moaning and shouting and trilling away. After the first dozen orgasms, they all ran together into one full-body, unending _karem_ of sensation.

I woke up, alone, a few hours later. My hair was matted, skin sticky, the room heavy with my pheromones and the copper-musky brine of itz’ arousal. I ached all over. Itz’ room was one of the expensive guest quarters, with no limits on the water allotment, so I took advantage with a long, hot shower. I made sure to turn the air filters to high and left the cleaners an extra tip on the way out.

I passed at least a dozen di’Taykan in the vertical and passageways. They couldn’t help but notice my strut, and while I’d showered, itz’ scent had sunk into my clothes—something none of them had ever smelled before. I left them behind in a cloud of waving hair and urgent gossip.

Once I got back to my own place I noticed a message on my slate informing me that our simulated reproductive activity had been highly satisfactory, and itz would look for me next time itz’ ship returned to the station. My station account was also 500 credits richer. Not the first time I’ve been mistaken for a working girl, and it won’t be the last, right, Alamber?

Seriously though, the whole experience was Triple Moonrise, ten out of ten, would fukk again. Maybe we can find out what planet [untranslatable] blobs come from and set up a nice cultural exchange slash sex holiday business, once you muster out. What you think, eh? Good idea, great idea, or best idea yet?

Write back soon! Tell me what Sh’quo Company is up to. And see if you can’t talk that staff sergeant of yours into a nice, team-building, pheromone-fueled orgy. It’s good for morale! All the porn says so! And maybe your special one will get worked up, watching you with the others.

Now I’m thinking of you with all of those fit Marines—at least a dozen, all at the same time, mmmm...

Love and kisses in all your favorite places,

Avaani

 

_Audio message ends._

 

 


	2. The fukk that wasn’t meant to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Avaani learns an important lesson about safe sex.

_Audio message begins._

 

Hey, _tak'yo_! *coughs* I know, my voice’s wrecked.

The first thing you need to know is, I’m fine. Almost completely recovered. So don’t panic.

You’re panicking, aren’t you? Stop it.

You were right about those interspecies compatibility checks. Ni!kra males have a protein in their secretions when they’re aroused that works as a muscle relaxant for their own species, and, wow, all the rumors about the size of their tusks and their _krayts_ really are true, by the way, so I can see why … umm, yeah, I’m still on some pain-killers. Turns out that protein is a powerful paralytic for di’Taykan, and while he was going down on me I may have, uh, stopped breathing. I’m fine, remember that!

He picked me up and rushed me to the med center, both of us naked, my masker off, his massive, erect _krayt_ waving around as he bellowed for medical assistance. I remember being terrified, but also, well, you know how much I like being helpless during sex, and he was so big and strong. I couldn’t see the people around us, but I could hear them and _smell_ them; being in public without a masker is a top fantasy of every di’Taykan I know, so I was pumping out pheromones even while I was suffocating and scared out of my mind.

I’m gonna have to ask a friend of mine to hack the surveillance. I’ll pass the footage on if I can. Must have been quite a sight! I wasn’t held responsible, but the poor Ni!kra had to pay a fine for “disrupting the orderly conduct of station business.” Oops?

Luckily they had a silica-based doctor on staff who was immune to my pheromones and was able to insert a breathing tube down my throat without, you know, getting distracted. Although, since they hadn’t ever performed that particular procedure on a species like mine before, it took them a few tries to get it right. Sounds like I spent a few days gagging on a company’s worth of _krayt_ , doesn’t it? Ironic, since I never even got a taste of that big, gorgeous organ, and now I never will. Spread the word about Ni!kra to any di’Taykans in your company. I’d hate for anyone else to suffer this kind of disappointment.

I ended up missing two days of work. Someone messed up the day-night cycling on my biomass experiment while I was out, and one of my most promising blue-green algae strains died off. If it was that frigid slit, Dr. Ciarrello, I’m gonna get creative in my vengeance. Don’t worry, I won’t get caught!

I’m glad to hear you had a date with that human male you like. But you still haven’t had sex? I don’t get it. How are you intimate enough to break bread together, when he hasn’t even fukked you yet? Is this some long, drawn-out courting ritual? Do you have to prove you’re a good enough hunter to provide for him or something? Humans—so weird.

I did some research, and I’m attaching a list of foods we can tolerate that are aphrodisiacs for humans. I hope it helps. Maybe import some “chocoalate” and serve it to him on your _krayt_? If that doesn’t work, feel free to imagine me under the table, sucking you off while you eat with him. Let me know how it goes!

Love and kisses,

Avaani

 

_Audio message ends._


	3. Community service fukk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avaani gets in the family way. No, not that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any issues with spiders, do NOT read this chapter.

_Audio message begins._

 

Congragulations, _tak'yo_!

I’m so glad you finally got to fukk your favorite human! Was it the “chocoalate”? The fact you’re the prettiest di’Taykan every to di? Or some combination of both? Sounds like you really like him. I’m a little hurt you still haven’t told me his name. It’s not like I would start sending him audio messages giving him tips on how to best get you off.

Okay, I admit it, that’s exactly what I would do. But our _sheshan_ wouldn’t, and she wants to invite the two of you to visit her next time the military grants you some leave. So contact her, before she starts contracting specialists to hack the Confederation’s personnel records to find your human. You know how she gets!

You’re probably desperate for details about my sex life, and I’d never deprive you of a little long-distance voyeurism. I’ve been busy! Being station-famous for starting a sex riot has had me scheduling partners three or four a night. Most of them have been fun, but nothing worth an intersystem message to brag over. There’s just one very special fukk I need to tell you about.

All station employees are required to hold open office hours every twelve cycles, to address community concerns and questions. Imagine my surprise when I answered the door chime to find a Mictok, all eight long legs and eight eyestalks pressed up against my door. I jumped backward, and it skittered inside.

“Ms. Avaani di’Cikeyes,” he chittered, a tingly spice-bread scent wafting from between his fangs, “we are Krik’tar, and we have come to request your help.”

I tried to peer past his black, chitinous bulk into the passageway, but he seemed to be the only one here. There was a pattern drawn on his carapace, barely visible at the infrared end of the visible spectrum, a fractal drawing leading in, and in, and into a dark vortex. “I’d be honored to help you and your family,” I said absently, my eyes tracing the art.

“You have, perhaps, heard that our dominant female was killed in an accident twenty cycles ago.”

We only have one Mictok family group on the station. They designed, built, and maintain our station’s unique greenhouse hub. They had recently lost one of their members to a micrometeorite strike during an EVA repair job. One of those freak, unavoidable accidents that are a part of living in the Black. Very sad. So I laid my hair flat and expressed my sympathies.

“We emerged from our mourning cocoon this cycle to find that, unexpectedly, the youngest member of our family had transitioned to female. She must now take the place of our dominant female.”

I tried to imagine waking up one morning with a _krayt._ That would be a lot of fun. I’d probably have to take a sabbatical, between playing with it myself and tracking down all my favorite partners, to replicate my favorite sex acts and see how they compare with a _krayt_. A better analogy might be suddenly transitioning to qui’Taykan phase. All those hormonal changes hitting overnight, the irresistible urge to head back home, nest, and reproduce. Ugh.

“Is that... unusual for your species?” I asked him.

“Highly irregular,” he confirmed. “And yet the family must adapt. And so we require your assistance.”

I did a quick run-through of the department’s inventory in my head. I’m not the station’s only botanist, but I’m definitely the most creative. “Is there some trace mineral native to your planet required to complete the transition that’s currently missing from your diet?” That happens fairly often, given the wide variety of species our station hydroponics need to sustain.

There was a soft chittering that failed to translate. “Forgive us for lack of clarity,” he said. “We do not normally listen to gossip—”

Suddenly I was much more at ease. No matter the species, the biggest gossips are always the ones who say that, and I had a feeling what gossip he might have heard.

“—but there is much talk, around the station, of your sexual desirability and enthusiastic desire to copulate with an unprecedented variety of species.”

I grinned at him. “Thank you,” I said sincerely.

“There is a ritual, rarely practiced in these more civilized times, that will aid our dominant female in taking her rightful place as head of our family. We would ask Mictok of another family to participate, but there are no others here, and for them to come now, while our family is in flux, would be a violation. We humbly ask that you join us.”

“Does this ritual involve sex?” I asked him.

“Yes.”

“With just her, or with the whole family at once?”

“All of us, of course,” he said, eyestalks twitching as if the very idea of two females fukking without inviting the rest of the family to join in had shocked him.

“I’m in.”

He gave me more details, and I filled out some legal forms, and we got an interspecies compatibility check done because I won’t so much as lick a surface membrane without a check after my run-in with the Ni!Kra. I’m all about the safe sex now! You’d be proud of me. But let’s skip to the good stuff.

The Mictok had one of the big, single room quarters. It was, to my eyes, dimly red-lit. There was no furniture. They had decorated every surface with patterns and designs, some in colored paints, some utilizing their own webbing. If I wasn’t there to get fukked, it could have been a fancy gallery opening. The room seemed crowded with seven large, black bodies, all holding absolutely still. They looked identical, aside from the bright artwork drawn on their carapaces. They had fallen back on primary colors and shapes for the ritual, the simplest forms as instinct returned them to their most primal selves. There was a lingering scent of alien grief, sadness, and fear. I had a sudden, almost violent urge to take off my masker and cleanse the place with some fresh pheromones and hot, greedy sex. I stepped inside and, as the door hissed closed behind me, I stripped off my robe to stand naked before them.

Six of them surged forwards, surrounding me in an instant. They herded me with ungentle shoves of cool, hard bodies and many-jointed legs towards the webbed corner where a seventh, the dominant female, waited. My translator program glitched as a single thought seemed to emerge from the entire group at once, sometimes in a single chorus, sometimes in a round, sussurring back and forth across the room in a wave of chittering voices. I can’t properly describe the sound, but they were saying something like, “ _The offering is here, rich with blood for the queen. Spin-trap-taste-breed.”_

The female was shivering in her web. I scented both desire and fear in her honey-spice smell as they shoved me to my knees in front of her. _You and me both, sister,_ I thought, as she reached towards me with trembling pedipalps. It took her three tries to manage the release on my masker.

Time seemed to slow down. I watched my masker fall to the floor as the female’s thorax expanded in a deep, pheromone-laden breath. Then she crouched and sprang over me. I was pushed, stumbling, to my feet and then face-first into the web. I felt loops of webbing twine around my limbs.

“If you move as if struggling to escape,” one of the males quietly chittered to me as he spread my ankles, positioning me so everyone could see, touch, and taste my ass or pussy, “it will further excite her.”

I flushed with arousal. And—fukk yeah, I could do that, not that it got me far. The webbing didn’t dig in or tighten, didn’t hurt no matter how hard I tugged. It was strong enough to be used as a structural support material, the galaxy’s most exclusive bondage gear. Seemingly reassured that I wasn’t going anywhere, the female began running her pedipalps all over my back and my ass, scenting, tasting my sweat and the lubricant that had started running down my thighs as I was pinned down and exposed to all those hungry alien eyestalks. Her pedipalps were cool and hard, but I could feel the bristle of tiny sensory hairs on them. My own hairs lifted, reaching for her, and my skin broke out in goosebumps, my body hungry for more scent, more sensation.

There was a click-clatter of sound and then a sudden impact as she was pushed forward into me. Long black legs inserted themselves between me and the webbing to clasp me, and their female, close. There were plenty of noises in the room, but no actual words for my program to translate, just eager little exhalations from the female, grunts of effort from the one fukking her, and the needy, encouraging chitters from rest of her males. Her pedipalps were kneading at my neck and shoulders, faster and more urgent, and as he came her fangs bit down into the big muscle there.

I was turned on enough so it felt good, the sharp edge of pain exactly what I wanted, her venom like the soft-focus buzz of a top-shelf drink. She was attached to me, feeding, crooning contentedly as each of her males grappled us, entered her and battered away at her body, breeding her. Her carapace was slick with my fluids, shoved back and forth against the lips of my pussy with every thrust. It was building, slowly but surely, into something incredible. There seemed to be legs and pedipalps everywhere—I couldn’t tell which belonged to her, which to the male breeding her, and which to the other males, all clustered around us now, a cocoon of black carapace, white webbing, and flashes of bright color. A pedipalp brushed against my lips and I opened my mouth to suck on the tip of it. The sharp, bristling strangeness of it, the taste, was almost, almost enough. I just needed something—anything—

Something cool pushed into my pussy, and I tipped over the edge, body clenching down hard, trying not to bite, as I trilled my way through my orgasm.

They kept going for a long time, after that, the thrusting gentler now and slower, like a long, luxurious fukk when you’ve nowhere you’d rather be. I found myself sleepily chanting along with the males, “That’s it. Give it to her. Breed her. That’s it,” until the room went quiet and oddly still.

They released my limbs and set me down on a soft bit of webbing since I couldn’t quite figure out how to work my arms and legs. The Mictok are really into aftercare. The males happily bustled around, massaging both me and their female, bringing me juice, her treats. The room smelled so good, like contentment and family, and oh yeah, lots and lots of sex.

I was about to drift off to sleep when something occurred to me. I struggled to sit up. “Hey,” I said, “That thing at the end, when you put something inside me—you didn’t actually lay your eggs in me, did you?”

Dozens of eyestalks swiveled to look at me. “Of course not,” the female chittered. “Traditionally that would be part of the ritual, but di’Taykan are biologically incompatible with Mictok eggs. Besides, Mictok young require consistent gravity while developing. No,” she said as several of the males continued to caress her abdomen. “We will need to relocate to a colony when it is time for our young to emerge. But your genetic code is a part of them, now, as you are a part of the family. They will never forget you.”

I spent the night in their quarters. In the morning one of the males woke me up early enough so that I could get checked out by the medics before work. One mild hang-over cure and I was good to go. The bite will definitely leave a scar, which I gotta say is kind of hot. I’m not sure how being adopted into one of the founding species of the Confed will affect my career, but it can’t hurt. And someday there’ll be a whole nest of baby Mictok who’ll think of me as their _sheshan_. When I go qui’Taykan I’ll probably be thrilled about that, but in the meantime, well, how many beings out there can say they got gang-banged by a whole bunch of Mictok?

Sometimes I fukking love working on a space station.

Speaking of family — check if that human male of yours might be into a threesome? I can even cook for him, if it would help. I mean, he’s not a stranger if you’ve known him for a long time, right? So breaking bread with him wouldn’t be too weird.

Love and kisses,

Avaani di’Cikeyes enli Krik’tar

HAH!

 

_Audio message ends._

**Author's Note:**

> I saw your 'PWP Worldbuilding' prompt, and couldn't resist! Thanks to my betas, elle and Rosefox.


End file.
